Three Colours
by the-only-innocent
Summary: The day before James and Lily's wedding, Sirius has a lot to grapple with. SiriusJames slash.
1. White

DISCLAIMER: Don't own, don't sue. Hurrah. I'm back again, this time with a 3-part fic (no one-shots, shock horror!!). More Sirius, more James, more angst, more shit, uh yeah the usual angsty, slashy mess (but what a lovely mess it is!!). Part 2 and 3 coming soon, so it'll be White, Red and Black (hence the 3 colours title). I know the whole '3 colours' concept is owned by Krzysztof Kieslowski, who made the films Red, White and Blue, so no-one get shitty, I don't own the title or any of that. Going to write a full length marauders fic, narrated by Sirius, will be up soon (if my schedule permits) as will the other two parts. Cheers, read the fic, RnR and fame and fortune will be yours!! (well not really, but what the hell).

* * *

Strange infatuation seems to grace the evening tide  
  
I'll take it by your side  
  
Such imagination seems to help the feeling slide  
  
I'll take it by your side  
  
Instant correlation sucks and breeds a pack of lies  
  
I'll take it by your side  
  
Over saturation curls the skin and tans the hide  
  
I'll take it by your side ... Without you, I'm nothing  
  
Without you, I'm nothing  
  
Without you, I'm nothing  
  
- Placebo "Without you I'm nothing"

* * *

A sea of whiteness, washed out under my feet. Like a blanket of purity, renewing everything, beautifying it. But what is that I see? In the perfect whiteness of my utopia, blood mixed into the sea, the blanket. My blood.  
  
I shake the hair out of my eyes, and continue down the cold, stark street. Snow covers everything; the pavement is blanketed in it, it swirls under the streetlamps and the shops look like something out of a children's storybook. Like Hansel and Gretel, with the gingerbread house and the frosted roof. Sweet and innocent, but all the more dark and dangerous. Its funny how the opposite always shows through in things. Like James, when he went on a self-righteous rant about monogamy and his marriage. "Staying true to people is important Sirius, even if you don't think so, well of course you don't thinks so, you've never been true to anyone in your life, that's why you're not in a stable relationship, and you won't be until you understand about monogamy. Partners like faithfulness, now you don't have to look so bloody shocked, they like it when you have eyes for only them, and, and that's why I cant be with you, it'll all end in tears and I love Lily, I do, Sirius I do", he says, standing up and looking down at me from his great moral height. He rants like this for ages, even after I stop listening. He knows I'm not listening. I don't think he cares. He's not really talking to me anyway. He's talking to himself, justifying it to himself that he needs to be monogamous and true to his fiancée. As if he's trying to make himself believe it.  
  
His eyes always give him away. He never was an actor. In even the loudest and most pious rant, his eyes are never in it. His face is contorted in a stern look, but his eyes stand out like beacons of truth. They look dull, deadened by the lies. "We don't love each other Sirius, what we were doing was just a bit of fun", says his mouth. But his wonderfully contradictory eyes scream: "I love you, come to bed".  
  
I turn the corner and continue down the street. Away from the place where I don't want to go. Because he's there. I trudge through the cold and wet, trying to think of somewhere to go away from the other place. People walk past me, around me, through me. They don't see me walking beside me or in front of them. Or when they push past me. I'm like a ghost. And I'm lost. I wish someone'd bloody take me home.

* * *

I hate arguing with James. He won't bloody shut up once we start, and he tells a heap of bullshit all the way through. It starts off innocently enough, with him sitting at a restaurant table, playing with sugar packets and chewing his manicured nails. And I sit idly by, watching his nervous movements. He's had a bad day, poor guy, I think scathingly, what with the robes and the manicure and all. He nearly had an aneurysm when the dry cleaners gave him the wrong robes and he freaked out outside the manicure place because 'it's not fair why do I have to have my nails done, I don't want them done.' And I was the supportive, comforting friend I always am and put up with his nervous chatter. It is his wedding tomorrow, after all. Our beers come and he sips his nervously, and seeing my scowl asks me "What's your bloody problem?"  
  
"I'm tired, I want to go home."  
  
"Well you can't. We still have to pick up your robes and all the stuff we'll need for tonight."  
  
"What like whisky?"  
  
"No, I already explained to you, I'm not getting pissed tonight, I'm getting married tomorrow morning, and I don't want to feel like shit".  
  
I roll my eyes. "What are we going to do then, compare the size of our dicks and beat the shit out of each other?"  
  
He leans back in his chair and glares at me. At least he's stopped biting his nails. "Sometimes I think you haven't grown up at all."  
  
"Sometimes you're right". I sip my beer.  
  
"Why are you being such a shit today?"  
  
I snort, which makes him glower at me. "You're being more of a shit than I am".  
  
"I have a reason to be a shit, I'm getting married tomorrow."  
  
"What cold feet? I could hijack you a boat to Bermuda or something".  
  
"No, I'm not reconsidering getting married tomorrow. I made a decision, and I'm not going to go back on it".  
  
"Ah, Mr Responsibility. You'll regret it when you're weighed down with a mortgage and three kids with ginger pubes".  
  
"Why are you so against this bloody marriage?"  
  
"I'm not against your bloody marriage!"  
  
"You hate Lily, don't you?"  
  
"No, I don't hate Lily, I think she's paranoid, clingy and obsessive about white freesias". It took Lily three hours to choose the right shade of 'white' freesias for the flowers at the wedding, even though all the 'whites' looked the same.  
  
"So what about the fucking freesias, she just wants the wedding to be perfect!"  
  
"It would have been better if they were lily's because then it would have matched her name".  
  
"Stop changing the subject. You never wanted me to get married did you?"  
  
I lean onto the table and speak slowly, as if he's an idiot. "If you want to get married, I want you to get married."  
  
He sits up straighter in his chair and I see him rearing up for a big fight. "You haven't been excited about this wedding from the start!"  
  
I sit back and smirk at him. "Well forgive me if freesias don't excite me as much as they should".  
  
But he won't be swayed. "The first time I told you, you weren't excited then!"  
  
I roll my eyes. "I had a hangover, and even though I was dying, I went out celebrating with you!"  
  
He snorts. "Only because there was beer involved".  
  
"This is a stupid argument, I'm not getting into it".  
  
"Just tell me the bloody truth, you never wanted me to get married, did you?"  
  
"No James I never wanted you to get married".  
  
He seems satisfied for a moment. Then he lowers his voice and leans over the table, because he can't stand making scenes in public. "And why is that?"  
  
"You tell me, you seem to know everything".  
  
"I know, I just want to know if you do".  
  
"Tell me asshole".  
  
He leans forward even further and lowers his voice even more. "Because you're in love with me."  
  
It was as if some cataclysmic change happened, right here at that very table. We both knew it, we'd always known it, it was just never spoken, as if it was some unwritten law. He wasn't meant to say it, he shouldn't have said it. Something snapped inside me; a chemical reaction, heat rushing to my chest as it tightens with anger.  
  
"That's right James, you hit the nail right on the head", I say, my voice rising and I feel the anger flare inside. James' eyes go wide and he's silently pleading with me not to make a scene. But I think I will. "I'm in love with you. I can't fucking think why, you're such a self absorbed fucker. And somehow, I believed you all the times you said we could be together, even though I knew deep down somewhere that it couldn't happen. Because of your fucking medieval Anglo-Saxon values and that you always care so fucking much about what everybody else thinks of you. And I'll tell you something, you fucking asshole, you love me back. That's why you come over and fuck me and then give me a self-righteous rant about how being true to your partner is so important, because you have to justify it to yourself that what you're doing is wrong, even though it feels so right."  
  
I break off, anger still burning inside me, taking in the wounded look on his face. People are watching us, craning their necks to see what's going on. His cheeks are burning with humiliation and hurt. I sit back, satisfied for the moment with the pain I've caused. Capable of being terrible, my mother always used to say. How right she was. We can't stay here now, after what's just happened. I fish in my pocket for money for the two beers and put it on the table, shove back my chair and walk out. I don't look at James, perhaps I can't. Out in the cold of the street, I stop. Taking in what I've done, what I've destroyed, the unwritten laws I just trampled. I'm going home. I can't take this shit.  
  
"Here's the money for the beer". James. He's standing beside me, the money for his beer in his hand. He's staring at the side of my cheek, and I can't bring myself to look at him.  
  
"It's fine. My shout", I say, staring out at the shops and avoiding his eyes.  
  
"You're right".  
  
"About what?"  
  
"What you said inside. That I love you and the rants are me justifying it to myself. Mostly that I love you".  
  
I close my eyes, wishing he was gone. I feel like I've ruined the unspoken agreement, our relationship. The truth shouldn't have come out, it hurts too much.  
  
"And you're right that I care too much about what other people think. But that's just the way I was brought up. I'm not trying to justify it, it's the truth. You learnt early on not to care what everyone else thinks about you. You had to. But I'm not like that. I don't want my parents, my friends and Lily to think badly of me. And they would think badly of me if I was with you. If I walked out on my wedding. I've come to far, Sirius. It's all organised and Lily would die of shame if I abandoned her at the altar for anyone, all the more if it was you."  
  
He takes a deep breath, as if he's suppressing emotion. "I still love you", he says, as he stares at his feet.  
  
I feel like my worst nightmares have come true. I always hoped, dreamed, he wouldn't go to the wedding, that he'd stay with me. Because he loved me. But we're past love. Love counts for nothing. Responsibility fills the void where love used to be, on the pedestal, where love had flourished with beauty and humility, now responsibility sits, stone cold in all its convention, like a foreboding reminder of what is to come.  
  
"I've got to go", I say, gathering my coat around me.  
  
"You still coming tonight?" Slight pleading in his voice.  
  
"I don't know". I never want to see him ever again; it hurts to see him standing beside me, to feel him kissing me, like we always end up doing anyway, when he can't be mine.  
  
"Please come. I don't want to be alone". His voice is pitiful, like he's a child begging his favourite uncle to stay for tea.  
  
"I'll see, I've got some stuff to do". I turn, and I walk down that god- forsaken street, leaving him standing in the snow, covered in the blanket, wading in the sea.

* * *

I stop at the street corner, wondering what I'm going to do. The twilight is beautiful; all the lights are misty through the thick darkness. I want to go home. Where is home? Home used to be wherever James was, but now... I don't know. I feel frozen to this spot, unable to make a choice. James was always the ambivalent one; I was usually quick and decisive. Not anymore. I look back down the street, the way I've come. The hotel is down there, where he is. Where I could be. He's waiting for me, sitting on the bed, chewing his nails. My heart sore and bruised, I take a step back down the street. The ambivalence isn't gone, it's just ignored. I still want to see him, even if it is for the last time. Just one more time, one more touch, one more word. One. 


	2. Red

**DISCLAIMER:** Don't own the concept, nor the characters, nor the song, don't sue me, all I own is the plot.

* * *

As you can see "Red" is up and "Black" will be coming soon. Thanks heaps to the reviewers, lovely to have such positive feedback, but we can always have more, so please review!! Um, I'm writing a full-length fic "Beautiful People", Chapter 1 is up now so please check that one out. Cheers all!!

* * *

And I'd give up forever to touch you  
  
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll  
  
ever be  
  
And I don't want to go home right now  
  
And all I can taste is this moment  
  
And all I can breathe is your life  
  
'Cause sooner or later it's over  
  
I just don't want to miss you tonight  
  
And I don't want the world to see me  
  
'Cause I don't think that they'd  
  
understand  
  
When everything's made to be broken  
  
I just want you to know who I am  
  
- The Goo Goo Dolls "Iris"

* * *

The sky burns red. A burst of colour from the west, it covers the heavens, burning like scarlet fire over the sky, like blood flowing from the open wound. The wound won't heal, it can't heal, the flesh is ripped off when it tries to mend. And it burns from where the fire touched the bleeding flesh. I'm bleeding.  
  
I'm dying.

* * *

Freezing air chills me to the bone. Just go inside, I tell myself, it's not as if it's hard, open the fucking door, then go up the fucking stairs, and walk into the fucking room. Simple. I curse my ambivalence as I wait. Waiting for what? The apocalypse? To die? So you don't have to make a choice. Stop being stubborn and open the door. A bunch of people walk past me, laughing and talking as they open the hotel door. They can do it, why can't you, you gutless bastard. It's what, 10 steps away, what's so bloody hard? I wish he was at his house, I could say it's too far away for me and go home. But Lily's mother and friends are staying at the house and in wedding tradition, the groom isn't meant to see the bride until the wedding day, so James has been exiled to the hotel. Just go up. On the count of 3.  
  
1... 2... 3.  
  
I almost throw myself forward so I'm walking very quickly, open the door, yes well done, walk through the foyer, up the stairs, we're doing very well, room 36, room 36, where the fuck is room 36? I stop in the hallway. 25, 23, 21.... I read the numbers on the doors. Right so we turn to the other side and walk the other way. 26, 28...maybe there is no room 36, and I get to go home...30, 32... and sleep on my couch and eat Chinese takeaway... 34...oh please God... 36. There it is. I stop in font of the door. Oh, shit. I shouldn't have come. Be brave Sirius, be brave. Fuck bravery, I can't take this shit. You were in Gryfinndor, you must be brave. Better off in Slytherin, at least they knew when to run...  
  
Oh no, oh shit, oh fuck. The door opens and James stares at me. Fucking great, fucking fantastic, he'll think I've been standing out here for ages (which I have) and he'll think I'm crazy (which I am right about now) and that I've been having a mental argument with myself (which I have). What the hell is wrong with me?  
  
"Hi", he says, a little uncomfortably. He shifts his weight from one foot to another and then look back at me. "You came".  
  
"Yeah". Of course I fucking came, you idiot, there's no need to state the blindly obvious.  
  
Lost for anything else to say, he gestures at the room. "Come in".  
  
I don't answer. I walk into the room, (which for the record was pretty neat, which is surprising because James isn't neat at all) and stand, quite uncomfortably beside the bed. Idiot, I feel like screaming at myself, what the hell possessed you to stand next to the bed, as if you're expecting something. You're not here to fuck him, you're here to...  
  
What am I here for?  
  
The most horrible feeling washes over me. Realisation, I suppose. He's made it clear that he's going through with the wedding. So why does he want me here?  
  
He wants to fuck me.  
  
That's all. No great explanation of why everything is the way it is, no running away together. Sex. That's all it is.  
  
He grabs a beer from the fridge and hands it to me. I feel the sickness starting in my stomach, but I push it back. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have come. I should have gone home, gone to the wedding tomorrow and never seen him ever again.  
  
"You're still angry at me". James' voice snaps me out of my reverie. He looks so pathetic, beer hanging limply from one hand, staring at me with sad eyes.  
  
"No, I, I just...". How the hell am I supposed to console him? None of this shit was in the best friend job description. I just want to go home. I just fucking want to go home.  
  
"Please don't be angry at me". Why does he have to sound so pitiful? Like he'll die if I'm angry with him. That's it, I'm leaving.  
  
"I shouldn't have come", I say, attempting to grapple with leaving. It's almost as bad as going in, no, its worse. I have to look at this bloody puppy begging me not to go.  
  
"No, please don't". He takes a few steps forward, as if he's trying to subdue me, but soon realises he's too close and takes a step back. We can't touch each other. If we do, some massive chemical reaction will happen, blow our limbs all over the room and we'll both bleed to death.  
  
I already am.  
  
I put the beer down on the table. I must be serious about this. He looks at it for a second, and then back at me. If I don't go now I never will. I start to walk towards the door, concentrating on walking and nothing else.  
  
There's something in my way.  
  
It's him. He's got his hands on m arms, stopping me, harnessing me. His touch is soft and light, but it sends pangs of pain into me. Let me go James, you selfish fucker, just let me go. I feel my resolve starting to crack, but this is nothing compared to James. He's standing there, holding his gaze, with tears brimming in his eyes and a single tear falls over his cheek.  
  
You think that's payment, for everything you've done? All the pain you caused me?  
  
I break the gaze and stare at the wall past him. "Let me go James".  
  
"No", he whispers hoarsely.  
  
"Please James, I want to go". Jesus, is this what it's come to? For me to leave I have to fucking beg?  
  
And then he kisses me, subdues me. He knows I can't leave now, after this. As his lips touch mine, I feel my heart break. Why does this have to be so difficult? Why do I love him? Because he was the only one who was ever there for you. And he won't be anymore. Not after tomorrow.  
  
He pulls me to the bed, but I know this isn't for sex. He never wanted me here for sex. He just didn't want to be alone. And I suppose I'm the perfect person to fill the void.  
  
We just lie there, his head on my chest, his tears dampening my robes. And I don't cry, why do I need to? I've shed more tears over him than I thought I'd ever need to. I'm fresh out. I just ignore the past and the foreboding future as I lie there. That doesn't matter, not for the moment. Because he's here with me. The wound's still torn and bleeding and the fire still scorches the skin, but the pain isn't there. It's just some distant memory. The cold, numbness takes over and we forget the past, forget the future and the present is ours. Because maybe if we lie here long enough, tomorrow will never come. 


End file.
